


I'm Sorry

by orionstarlight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Apologies, F/M, Fights, Light Drinking, Manager reader, Self-Indulgent, no beta we die like men, you're pretty cool in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27442663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionstarlight/pseuds/orionstarlight
Summary: “How long are you going to be angry at him?” asks Akaashi, one of the few people brave enough to actually come up to you when you’re like this.“He called me annoying. I’m just getting started.”-----You and Kuroo have a little spat before the training camp. Sadly, both of you are too proud to apologise.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	I'm Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> this is so self-indulgent i just need kuroo to hold me and also I've been rewatching the tc arc for a week now :,)

* * *

The tension between the two of you hasn’t ridden out exactly how you hoped it would. It’s had you fidgeting with your fingers and your stomach on edge threatening to flip the longer it takes you two to resolve it.

There’s also the matter that both of you are too proud to apologise first.

Usually both of you end up caving around the same time after a small spat, leaving no clear winner or loser, but this has apparently escalated beyond ‘small spat’ and into ‘just seeing your face puts a scowl on mine’. You’d hoped to have resolved all this before the training camp, but, as you pick up balls from the court and throw them back in the basket with every ounce of strength you have, it’s rather clear that didn’t happen.

You can feel everyone’s gaze on you as you mutter things under your breath that you’re lucky the coaches and other teachers don’t hear, even if most of them have cleaned away for the night.

“How long are you going to be angry at him?” asks Akaashi, one of the few people brave enough to actually come up to you when you’re like this.

“He called me annoying. I’m just getting started.”

In truth? You’d stopped being angry at him a while ago, but since you haven’t spoken in so long, the silence keeps igniting a dying flame, making it that much harder to actually move on from something that you really couldn’t care less about.

Yes you’d told him to piss off when he was distracting you from studying and yes he’d told you that you were no fun and boring for caring about your grades more than him, but things like that had happened before. It was when he said that he was annoyed that a switch of irritation flipped in you.

That, as far as you were concerned, has always been your weak point. You aren’t proud of how you handled things after he said that, but when you’re hurt, you’re hurt, and stopping yourself from lashing out is a lot harder than it looks.

_Your pencil drums against the side of your skull, stuck on the third practise question, trying to discern exactly what kind of an answer it wants from you, while his lips whisper nonsensical phrases in your ear to make you pay attention to him._

_“I have to study, Testu, come on. I can’t fail this test, not if I want to avoid supplementary classes and come to the camp with you guys.”_

_His face buries itself in your neck. “You’re no fun, nerd. I can’t believe your boyfriend is less important to you than some grades.”_

_“Seriously, and I mean this as kindly as I can, piss off. You know biology is a weak spot for me, and you’re being no help at all.”_

_He huffs, letting you go, and you’re thankful, but not a minute later you’re being scooped up from his desk chair and into his arms, thrashing desperately to get back to your textbook and memorise the types of membrane transport. He only squeezes you harder in response as he pulls you onto the bed._

_“Is it so bad that I want to spend time with you? Forgive me if I’m annoyed that even though you’re right in front of me I can’t even touch you.” Your ears burn at his words, twisting to face him, and he already knows he’s made some kind of mistake._

_“Oh, well, in that case, let me help you with that.” You force yourself out of his arms, gathering your things. “If I’m annoying you so much, maybe it’ll be better if I just leave. I’ll see you in school, Kuroo.”_

_Pulling the last name card, you slam his bedroom door, heading home with a cloud of anger in his mind._

At the slam of the supply room door, the leftover team players jump, Akaashi just sighing in defeat, watching you walk out of the gymnasium with your head up high, not even sparing anyone a glance. He turns to look at Kuroo who can’t help staring at your back wistfully.

“Hey, idiot!” His attention shifts. “Go apologise before someone gets a ball to their face in practise this week.”

He shakes his head. “No way. I’m not gonna lose.” Akaashi, Bokuto and Yaku shoot him a look. “What?”

“Just the fact that you’re not gonna have a girlfriend by the end of the week,” snickers Yaku, slapping his back.

“She said you called her annoying. If that’s true, you’ve already lost. If you don’t apologise, things aren’t going to end well for you,” clarifies Akaashi.

“I call dibs if you guys break up,” says Bokuto, earning him a smack upside the head.

Kuroo considers his options carefully. While what Akaashi says may be true, there’s no way you’d break up over something so petty. Surely there’s a way to coax you into talking to him again without apologising directly. Besides, he never called you annoying outright, so he really doesn’t understand why he should be the one to say sorry.

“I’ll talk to her later. I gotta whip Lev into shape first.”

* * *

Breakfast doesn’t distract from the tension; you’d argue that it adds to it if anything. Normally you’d sit down with Kuroo, tease Kenma a little bit about staying up late, your ankles hooked under the table like always, but this time you force yourself to walk right past him, sitting down with the girls from Fukurōdani.

He’s staring at your back from behind you, you can feel the pressure all too well, but you ignore it, opting to entertain yourself with the conversation in front of you while you swallow your breakfast as fast as you can.

It’s still early enough that when you do finish, official practise hasn’t started yet, leaving you to go through your notes on the team you’ve been making, wanting to make sure they’re giving it their all before Nationals comes along.

They’re a strong team, even given Lev’s not so fluid movements on the court, but you know he’ll be getting it sooner or later. More than a team, the guys are friends, and that, as much as it is a weakness, is a strength.

You’re no coach, and by all means, you’re not trying to be, but if your notes can even be turned into a piece of solid advice, you’re going to give it to them.

Still alone in the gymnasium, you start setting up for the day, the squeak of your shoes on the linoleum oddly comforting. Another pair of shoes joins you quickly, holding a ball you recognise all too well.

“Set for me?” You catch it when he throws it, a wordless ‘yes’.

You’re no ace when it comes to setting itself, but you know enough to get him a few good balls, letting him slam down some beautiful spikes, an occasional feint thrown in here and there for good measure.

You’ve set for him before, usually on days where he just needs a break and the volleyball net in the public park near your houses is free, so you know how he likes the ball, and the otherwise quiet atmosphere helps you relax a little too, even if you haven’t actually really said anything yet. It’s a step, small but necessary.

And then you hear more shoes outside mixed with buzzed chatter and your set falters, grip on the ball a little too tight, and you remember that this doesn’t count as an apology.

* * *

“Exactly! He is a twat!” you whisper-shout at Saeko, the two of you sitting outside on the grass, sharing a bottle of sake, really glad you got to turn eighteen this early in your third year. She giggles at you as you groan, laying down and letting your head hit the green ground.

“Men never know what they’ve done wrong. He probably thinks he doesn’t even need to apologise!”

She lies down next to you and is surprised to see you looking at her with these big sad eyes. “I miss him.”

“Yeah, men tend to make you feel that way,” she sighs. “You’re not even angry at him anymore are you?” You shake your head no.

“Don’t get me wrong, I was at first, but I know he wasn’t explicitly calling me annoying and I can’t just not put any of the blame on myself when clearly I’ve had a hand in us not talking for this long. Stupid sense of pride. All I want is to tell him I’m not angry at him.”

You refuse the sake when she offers it to you, wanting to clear your head a little bit, even if you’re only ever so slightly tipsy. You sigh, stand up, look down at her and hold out your hand to help her up.

“Listen, in my experience, men aren’t worth it, but if you guys have been together so long already, this fight is pointless. Forgive and let go,” she says, a firm hand on your shoulder as she stares into your soul.

You chuckle lightly. “Deal. But I’m gonna take a bath first.”

She grins at you as you walk back together, drabbling on about some college boy that she would love to see again only to punch him in the face for sleeping with her friend less than a month after they did. If you see her brother, you’ll make sure to thank him for playing volleyball, because his sister is insanely fun to be around.

There are still a few high schoolers lounging around inside, so at least you won’t get in trouble for being late. The best part about being a manager for Nekoma is the fact that you don’t have shifts for the bathroom like the guys do, a huge bonus in your opinion.

You wave her goodbye as she goes to join the teachers and you go to get your things from where you’re sleeping with the rest of the girls, apologising for being absent this evening. They tell you it’s fine but ask you to hurry back so they can complain about their teams, making you laugh a little.

The warmth of the bath helps you relax a little, albeit causing a little light-headedness after being mixed with your alcohol consumption. You lean your head back on the tiles behind you, completely oblivious to the sound of the door sliding open and closed, ears only perking up when you hear someone getting in opposite you.

Making nothing of it, you stay as you are, only feeling like something isn’t right when you sense the water sloshing in your direction, peeking out through your closed eyelids.

“Hey,” he says softly, chin resting on the water, the rest of his body hidden. You sit up, resting your head on your knees.

“This is the girl’s bathroom,” you reply, trying not to sound too snappy.

“Are you going to break up with me?”

Any regular girl would probably gasp and tell him that of course not and that he has nothing to be worried about and apologise for even making him think that, but since you’re you, your response is to flick him on the forehead and say, “Stop being stupid. I’m not going to throw our relationship away over something so idiotic.”

“So, me and you, we’re… okay?” He’s really good at taking the romance out of things, but you smile at him anyway.

He’s always been quite the worrier, even if he hides it better than you do most of the time. And to an onlooker, what’s happening right now looks nothing like an apology, but rather the part that comes after it, and they’d be right. Doing things in chronological order has never been a strong point for either of you.

“Yeah, dumbass. We’re good. Just don’t use the word annoying around me.”

He inhales sharply. “I don’t know, it’s kind of annoying how you led me to believe I didn’t have a girlfriend anymo-”

You shove his head under the water, hoping to make him shut up before he says something he regrets, but he just grabs you by the waist and pulls you in after him, muffling your shriek of surprise with the water before both of you come up for air.

You stare at him for a minute, looking into those sweet hazel eyes that make you melt just a little bit, arms wrapped around his neck loosely.

“I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry-” He stops when he hears you. You bite back a laugh and continue.

“I’m sorry I walked out just like that and didn’t bother to talk things out. I know you were only trying to stop me from drowning in biologic terminology. It wasn’t cool of me to take my frustrations out on you. Also, you’ve been slacking off on the height of your serves, but that’s just a side note,” you finish. 

He doesn’t bother biting back his laugh. “I’m sorry if I implied you were annoying, but seriously, you were freaking out over nothing. Didn’t you get a 93 on that test?” You roll your eyes at him. “And a comment on my serves? Here I thought you weren’t even looking in my direction these past few days.”

“Hey, I’m a manager first, girlfriend second. Your ass is gonna lose in Nationals if you don’t get it together,” you say, poking at his chest. “Now get out of here and go work on those higher serves, Kuroo.”

“Oh, last name card, huh? I’m really in trouble now.” He leans in to kiss you, but you dodge, frowning at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Now shoo,” you tell him, pushing him out of the bath, not excited at all to get caught with him here. You feel a little better now that you’ve talked things out, if even a little, and your chest feels lighter, breathing coming to you easier.

* * *

You pick up the ball from the basket, angle your body, and throw hard, careful not to miss his head. Sure, you probably could have gone for a bigger impact if you really wanted to, but you just need the right amount of power to get him to listen to you.

“Stop instigating and start working on your serves!” you shout at Kuroo, Yaku snickering at the way he’s holding the back of his head, in disbelief that you would actually hit him. Even Kenma manages a little smile, happy that someone finally knocked some sense into him. You fold your arms across your chest, unrelenting.

You meant every word of what you said yesterday — first and foremost, you're the team’s manager. Sure, not exactly the same position as coach, but you’ll be damned if you let them fail going to Nationals just because they slacked off a little. It’s a training camp, not a practical jokes camp.

Akaashi walks up to you, water bottle in hand, his team on a break. “I thought you guys made up last night. At least that’s what he’s been boasting.”

“Hm? Oh, no we did, but that doesn’t excuse him from playing like he is. What, you think I go easy on him just because we’re dating? That’s the last thing I’d do,” you scoff, completely missing the look he has on his face, truly terrified at what it would mean if you were their manager.

“What are you on about? I’m not instigating anyone!” Kuroo says innocently, walking towards you.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I don’t see you poking at everyone as soon as you get on the court?” 

You stand your ground, knowing full well he’s purposely been avoiding working hard to have a little fun with the guys considering they see each other less and less these days, but you’re not having it. If Coach Nekomata isn’t going to point that out to him, you know he’s counting on you to do it.

He places his hands on his hips, staring you down. “I’m not allowed to have fun now?”

“No. Now do you need me to show you what a serve looks like or are you going to pick it up?” He says nothing, just smirks, so you take a ball from the basket. “ _Fine_.”

Taking your place on the court, you breathe in and out, steadying the beat of your heart, letting your surroundings disappear from you. In and out. Just like junior school.

Toss the ball a with one hand two feet up in the air.

Step towards it.

Swing your other arm back behind you.

Quickly swing it forward and contact the underside of the ball with a closed fist. 

The ball lands perfectly on the other side of the net, and while everyone is either looking at you or at the ball, you’re looking at Kuroo, who’s staring like he’s found a new reason to be completely infatuated with you. Sky ball serves were always your speciality.

“You learn to master that, Captain, and maybe you can have lunch,” you smirk, placing a hand on your hip as you step off the court and come to stand in front of him again.

Sky ball serves are better when the ceiling is taller than here, but it’s a useful skill to have, especially considering playing in the stadium is going to be just like playing on a beach, wind breezing perfectly beneath makeshift wings with every jump.

“Hand hurts, doesn’t it?”

“So bad. But it’s worth it considering I just pretty much put you to shame out there. You’re gonna have to work extra hard now to get your likeability back from the first years.” He smiles at you, not one of his wicked grins, but an honest, Tetsurō Kuroo smile, and you smile back, happy you’re getting along again.

Putting on a show, he sighs dramatically, getting back on the court. “ _Oya oya_. Guess I have to try today after all.”

You bow to Coaches Nekomata and Naoi, apologising for overstepping your bounds, but they just smile and tell you it’s fine, so long as the boys are being whipped into shape one way or another. You thank them and return to the ball basket, watching the team work a little harder this time around, relieved at the lack of tension in the air.

* * *

“Hey, what’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be helping pack up? Or celebrating with the guys?” you ask Kuroo, who’s leaning against the door frame, watching you put away the team’s supplies you brought to the camp.

“Treat me to another one of your serves?” he asks, a lazy smirk on his face, the ball you got him for his birthday spinning in his fingers.

You laugh, zip up the bag, and stand up. “No way, after the barbeque yesterday I’ve got too much leftover energy. It’d probably go through the roof by accident and wake everyone up.”

“Some sets then? I promise to be quiet.”

You’re pretty sure you hear yourself telling him that no, you won’t be setting for him at six thirty in the morning, but somehow he drags you out of the supply room and onto the gymnasium court anyway, shoving the ball in your hands.

“We leave, in like, half an hour,” you state, throwing the ball up nevertheless.

“I haven’t spent any time with you this week, what with Karasuno’s first years roping me into extra practise. Plus, a manager is supposed to help their team get better, right?”

“The day I get Kenma to do extra practise with the rest of you is the day I’ll know my work is done,” you chuckle, bouncing the ball twice before you toss it again. However, instead of spiking it, he catches it gracefully, landing and turning to you. “What?”

“You spike.”

You choke on air, spluttering. “I think I’m good. I haven’t hit one in three years, I doubt I’m going to hit one now, no matter how good your toss.”

“So, you’re a coward?” He knows exactly what he’s doing when he calls you that, but you’re not going to let him get the better of you just so he can see you embarrass yourself. You walk past him, heading for the door.

“Guess I am,” you sigh, like it’s the least important thing in the world, and you secretly relish in the look on his face as he realises he hasn’t managed to provoke you.

Your ability to relish that look is cut short when he picks you up and while your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct, his arms don’t hold you up at all, so your body hangs upside down, head threatening to touch the floor at any moment, much to his amusement.

You try and unwrap your legs from him and place your arms on the ground to drop safely, but his grip is firm on your hips, so your next course of action is, of course, to swing yourself up and crack your skull into his.

Granted, it’s not exactly a safe or painless option, but it has him falling over, which is the desired effect.

“You are like, seriously, the worst boyfriend ever,” you say, groaning and holding onto your head.

“Says the girlfriend that just threw her head into mine.”

The two of you lie on the floor next to each other, looking into one another’s eyes, and you wonder just how lucky you are that things got solved that easy for you. “Hey, Tetsu? Thanks for coming to talk to me that night. That should have been my job.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an idiot.” You frown at him. “Kidding. But the next time you kick me out of a bath with you, I’m not going to forgive you.”

You grin like crazy, showcasing your pearly whites, shifting so you’re leaning over him. He looks a lot cuter from this angle, and you don’t even bother to stop yourself from kissing him, slow and gentle, tugging on his bottom lip as you pull away.

“Make it up to you this weekend?” you ask innocently, batting your eyelashes.

He sits up, arms resting around your waist. “It’s a deal, nerd.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> [my ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/erissapphic)


End file.
